


Until The End of My Days

by theoldthetruethebrave



Category: Asoiaf - Fandom, Jonsa - Fandom, game of thrones
Genre: F/M, jon x sansa - Freeform, jonsa
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-03-17
Updated: 2019-03-17
Packaged: 2019-11-21 06:32:32
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 881
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18138674
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/theoldthetruethebrave/pseuds/theoldthetruethebrave
Summary: Jon and Sansa have a strictly political secret marriage in the Winterfell Godswood, but the two can’t help but feel that the other has deep feelings for one another.





	Until The End of My Days

Sansa felt as though frost was settling itself into her skin, tattooing her with its swirly markings. But she knew she felt so strangely only because of her trembling nerves. 

I have no need to be scared, she thinks to herself, as Gilly runs a comb through her long auburn hair. He’s Jon. He will never harm me, not like the others. 

Sansa’s eyes focus on Arya, who’s standing in the doorway, lurking, watching her older sister prepare for her wedding. Sansa tries to read her face, but Arya’s face has always been nearly expressionless since Sansa was reunited with her. 

I wish I knew what she thinks of all this, Sansa can’t help but wonder. 

Sansa also wonders if Jon loves her. Deep down, she loves him, and the thought of his rough, calloused hands running down her back gently caused shivers up her neck. As she straightened out any creases in her dress, she thought of his warm brown eyes. How they could dissolve the cold inside of you with a simple blink. She closes her eyes, and inhales. No, she thinks, marrying Jon wouldn’t be so horrible. It would be so lovely and sweet.

In a separate room in the Winterfell castle, Jon nervously drums his fingers against his jaw, his thoughts running a mile a minute. 

Does she want to do this? Yes. Of course she does. She agreed. But still. I don’t want to force her hand...but gods, would it be a sweet dream to be married to Sansa Stark. 

“Stop twitching” Sam says, as he tries to straighten Jon’s cloak. “You do want to look good on your wedding night, do you?”

“Of course, Sam” Jon sighs. “But I...”

“Don’t be nervous” Sam smiles, that old smile Jon has known for years, since he was just a fifteen year old boy, wanting to make his mark on the world by joining the Watch. Now look at him. King in the North, about to be married to the most beautiful woman in the world. 

But our marriage is strictly political, Jon reminds himself. There’s no telling if she loves you...that way. 

He closes his eyes, and in the quiet darkness, he sees Sansa, in a white woollen dress stitched by her soft, slender hands, her ocean coloured eyes blinking up at him, and he exhales.

How sweet would it be, to hold her in my arms once again?

The wedding will be small, Sansa reminds herself, as she, Gilly, and Arya leave the castle, heading for the Godswood. Just Davos, Lyanna Mormont, Sam and Gilly, and Bran and Arya. And of course, Jon. 

The wedding will be a secret. A sweet secret, kept between them. The world is falling apart, but maybe our marriage can seam and stitch it back together, Sansa thinks. 

The Godswood at night is always ethereal. The red leaves of the tall, stout trees always flutter, their rustles almost like the soft whispers of children, their bark almost aglow. Above them, pinpricks of stars twinkle as if winking down onto the couple. 

Jon is already there, standing beside Sam and Bran, waiting to marry her.

When he spots her, Sansa watches as his eyes widen, how his lips part and form a surprised little O. 

Jon’s heart is shaking and feeble, like an old man’s. Sansa looks so gorgeous, so celestial, that he could hardly stop himself from running to her. When she walks up to him and stands by his ride, ready to take the oaths, he trembles.

Sam clears his throat, breaking the silence. 

“In the sight of the Godswood, I seal these two souls, binding them as one” Sam’s voice is loud and clear, but it shudders.

Jon and Sansa raise their arms, and clasp their hands.

His hands are so warm, Sansa thinks, as she intertwines fingers with him.

Her hands are so soft, Jon thinks, as he squeezes them reassuringly.

Sam wraps the cloth around their hands, slowly and gingerly.

“For eternity” he finishes softly. 

Jon and Sansa turn, facing each other, both knowing what to say next. Sansa’s been rehearsing saying her wedding vows since she was a child, so her words left her lips like birds in flight.

Staring into Sansa’s eyes, Jon feels himself drown into them, his body and soul sinking into hers.

Their mouths open, and their words melt and mold into each other, every syllable in utter synchronization.

“Father. Smith. Warrior. Mother. Maiden. Crone. Stranger. I am hers, and she is mine...” Jon’s words are quiet, but shake every tree branch in the Godswood. Sansa’s words are soft, but powerful enough to send chills through the spines of everyone watching. 

“...from this day, until the end of my days” the both finish. 

Without warning, Jon dips in his head, and locks his lips with Sansa’s. She leans in, letting him slowly wrap his arms around her waist. 

In that moment, everything is forgotten. The White Walkers, the Dragon Queen, Cersei Lannister...everything vanishes into the cold, thin air around the two. 

They pull away, slightly out of breath. Jon leans his forehead against the bridge of Sansa’s nose.

She loves me. He loves me. Their thoughts are in unison. For this day, and until the end of my days.


End file.
